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American Civics Quiz
http://www.americancivicliteracy.org/resources/quiz.aspx
What's more sad is that our elected officials, in general, know less about American civics than the average citizen: http://www.americancivicliteracy.org/2008/additional_finding.html
In the last almost 75 years in America, there has been so much more concentration on math and science that we've lost our focus on our beginnings. I, personally, as a historian, feel that, without considerable knowledge of how America began and where we came from, we cannot progress and fight to ensure the very rights for which we faught tremendous battles to gain in the first place. The fact that many Americans don't understand free-market capitalism or the powers of the federal government's individual branches really is remarkable and quite saddening - people don't know how their elected officials and government works for them. [The worst part: "Officeholders and non-officeholders find it equally difficult to identify the three branches of government. Only 49% of each group can name the legislative, executive, and judicial."]
So not only do we need to focus on the math and science that push America's technological future forward, but we also need to fully comprehend HOW America works, where we started, and what got us to where we are today in order to keep moving forward. They always say, "learn from your mistakes." Well, we can't do that without knowing what those mistakes were. Let's learn about the mistakes, and work to prevent them from happening again - make America, and Americans, better. Learn your history.
12.18.2008
I hate...
I hate the way you talk to me
And the way you cut your hair.
I hate the way you drive my car.
I hate it when you stare.
I hate your big dumb combat boots
And the way you read my mind.
I hate you so much it makes me sick.
It even makes me rhyme.
I hate the way you're always right.
I hate it when you lie.
I hate it when you make me laugh;
Even worse when you make me cry.
I hate it when you're not around
And the fact that you didn't call,
But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you;
Not even close;
Not even a little bit;
Not even at all.
~10 Things I Hate About You.
And the way you cut your hair.
I hate the way you drive my car.
I hate it when you stare.
I hate your big dumb combat boots
And the way you read my mind.
I hate you so much it makes me sick.
It even makes me rhyme.
I hate the way you're always right.
I hate it when you lie.
I hate it when you make me laugh;
Even worse when you make me cry.
I hate it when you're not around
And the fact that you didn't call,
But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you;
Not even close;
Not even a little bit;
Not even at all.
~10 Things I Hate About You.
12.03.2008
Homoeroticism in gay networking sites.
On a certain gay networking site of which I'm a member there was recently an ad posted looking for decent models to be in a campaign touting the site as better than others - particularly those with half-naked pictures of me showing six-pack abs and who only want to hook up or show off their dicks just for attention. I applied, thinking to myself, "I'm just what they're looking for: someone who doesn't post half-naked photos of myself just for attention, someone who hates the fact that gay men use their bodies to get what they want, someone who hates the oversexualization of gay dating." A few days later, I was informed that I wasn't chosen for the campaign - at least, not this go-around.
Today, surfing that site, I see the profile of an administrator of the site standing with one of the models chosen: A tall, slender man with rosy cheeks, blonde hair, and a cute smile, standing, arms wrapped around a slightly shorter, yet perfectly tanned and sculpted muscle god with an apparant V-line disappearing into a showing boxer-brief line just above the rise of his jeans.
And this model is now the image of what is supposed to be a "nice" place to meet guys without the tensions of exposed perfect bodies casting shadows over those who don't feel comfortable [or slutty?] enough to share their midsections to the whole world. What happened to saving one's body for the one they love? What happened to surprise and secrecy? Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free? If I know what's under a shirt, it somehow makes it far less intriguing as to what's underneath.
I don't know why I wasn't selected for this modeling spot, but as I see it, it seems to be apparant that the directors of this site chose to portray a "nice" site which features shirtless, ripped men, sending the image that the gay community is just full of 6-pack-boastin', perfectly-tanned gym rats who are more concerned about their outward image than actually meeting a decent, sweet, kind-hearted, caring man.
Today, surfing that site, I see the profile of an administrator of the site standing with one of the models chosen: A tall, slender man with rosy cheeks, blonde hair, and a cute smile, standing, arms wrapped around a slightly shorter, yet perfectly tanned and sculpted muscle god with an apparant V-line disappearing into a showing boxer-brief line just above the rise of his jeans.
And this model is now the image of what is supposed to be a "nice" place to meet guys without the tensions of exposed perfect bodies casting shadows over those who don't feel comfortable [or slutty?] enough to share their midsections to the whole world. What happened to saving one's body for the one they love? What happened to surprise and secrecy? Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free? If I know what's under a shirt, it somehow makes it far less intriguing as to what's underneath.
I don't know why I wasn't selected for this modeling spot, but as I see it, it seems to be apparant that the directors of this site chose to portray a "nice" site which features shirtless, ripped men, sending the image that the gay community is just full of 6-pack-boastin', perfectly-tanned gym rats who are more concerned about their outward image than actually meeting a decent, sweet, kind-hearted, caring man.
7.03.2008
An internal monologue
I was talking with my roommate last night and decided that life sould be like a TV show, particularly something similar to Grey's Anatomy. I want to wake up each morning, walk around the streets of town, sit at work or lunch, talk with friends, and be able to have this internal monologue airing loudly over my head and nobody can hear it. Just me.
I want to be able to endure each day when my only real problems involve sex and relationships and where money is not a problem.
I want to be able to lay my head to my pillow each night and not have bigger problems on my mind, like where my next car or rent payment will come from, or how tight the month's budget will be.
It seems like each character doesn't live the life of the real person. These images, these characters are merely figments of someone's imagination, forsaking reality for interest, leaving real life in the dust to speed along a highway of a dreamland where bills and money don't matter. That's not real life. It's just TV.
I was thinking this afternoon that most of humanity these days has lost a great deal of innocence and reality, humility and respect. Every day people drive to work, to the store, to clubs and bars and parties, and back home. Scratch that. They don't drive. They race. Race to the top. Ten, fifteen, twenty miles over the speed limit. Walking faster and faster through the store, down the street, through the office, not stopping to smell the flowers, admire the trees or the mountains, see the clouds. Too many people these days have lost the sence of wonderment that we all posessed as children. They no longer stop to make a new friend or to help the little old lady get that box off the top shelf. Put your blinders on and keep on walking.
I want to go back to a time when people were polite, when the driver to your left wasn't angry, laying on the horn, flipping the bird at the car behind him. I want to go back to the days when everyone was innocent, when exceptions were made, when humanity, humbleness, and innocence prospered.
That was the same time when having a BA could guarantee you a job, set for life, and rapid vertical movement within a company, just because you spent four years studying more than anyone else. Now, it just makes you as ordinary as everybody else. Experience doesn't stand a chance anymore; it's about how much money you've shelled out to pay for different letters in the title: MA or Ph.D.
In just a few moments, I'm going to leave for the bar with my roommate. I'm going to drive about ten miles over the speed limit on the highway. I'm going to have a few beers, and we're going to come home. I know I shouldn't, because the real human problem bouncing through my mind all night will tell me money is tight and I shouldn't be out spending. And when I come home, my head will hit the pillow, and I'll still wonder how I'm going to pay for new contacts and my car registration next month, on top of my rent, car, and student loan payments.
I'm going to go to bed tonight as a real human. Not a character. Because I have real problems, real worries, and a real life.
I want to be able to endure each day when my only real problems involve sex and relationships and where money is not a problem.
I want to be able to lay my head to my pillow each night and not have bigger problems on my mind, like where my next car or rent payment will come from, or how tight the month's budget will be.
It seems like each character doesn't live the life of the real person. These images, these characters are merely figments of someone's imagination, forsaking reality for interest, leaving real life in the dust to speed along a highway of a dreamland where bills and money don't matter. That's not real life. It's just TV.
I was thinking this afternoon that most of humanity these days has lost a great deal of innocence and reality, humility and respect. Every day people drive to work, to the store, to clubs and bars and parties, and back home. Scratch that. They don't drive. They race. Race to the top. Ten, fifteen, twenty miles over the speed limit. Walking faster and faster through the store, down the street, through the office, not stopping to smell the flowers, admire the trees or the mountains, see the clouds. Too many people these days have lost the sence of wonderment that we all posessed as children. They no longer stop to make a new friend or to help the little old lady get that box off the top shelf. Put your blinders on and keep on walking.
I want to go back to a time when people were polite, when the driver to your left wasn't angry, laying on the horn, flipping the bird at the car behind him. I want to go back to the days when everyone was innocent, when exceptions were made, when humanity, humbleness, and innocence prospered.
That was the same time when having a BA could guarantee you a job, set for life, and rapid vertical movement within a company, just because you spent four years studying more than anyone else. Now, it just makes you as ordinary as everybody else. Experience doesn't stand a chance anymore; it's about how much money you've shelled out to pay for different letters in the title: MA or Ph.D.
In just a few moments, I'm going to leave for the bar with my roommate. I'm going to drive about ten miles over the speed limit on the highway. I'm going to have a few beers, and we're going to come home. I know I shouldn't, because the real human problem bouncing through my mind all night will tell me money is tight and I shouldn't be out spending. And when I come home, my head will hit the pillow, and I'll still wonder how I'm going to pay for new contacts and my car registration next month, on top of my rent, car, and student loan payments.
I'm going to go to bed tonight as a real human. Not a character. Because I have real problems, real worries, and a real life.
6.20.2008
Devastation.
So I know I haven't posted in quite a long time, and seeing my most recent post makes me incredibly distraught as it refers to a happiness recently ended. Recently, I endured a week without talking to the man who makes me happier than anything in the world.
Well, let's back up a few weeks.
On the two-month anniversary of our first date, I decided I would take a giant leap and tell the man about whom I care deeply just how much I care for him; I told him I love him. It was an awkward night. Nerves kicked in, upset stomachs took over. Awkward, indeed. Nevertheless, it seems everything was fine.
But I guess an old friend and new conversations got him to thinking. So began almost an entire week of not talking to this man about whom I care so much. Torture ensued within me when he wouldn't return my voicemails or answer my calls. The pain through which I went that week just devastated me. I didn't know what I'd done to warrant such blatant neglect. I was scared that I was losing him.
Finally, he comes into my work one Saturday afternoon. He was with friends; he didn't say more than a handful of words to me. It was definitely awkward. After work that night, he actually answered his phone for the first time in a week, and told me he was too tired to come see me. I guess I'm not much of a prize to seek anymore. So much has changed from the time when he would beg me to go into work late just so he could stay over and not have to get up so early to leave.
I didn't call him at all for three days. Finally, he calls me Tuesday night (6/17), and tells me he has something to tell me, that he doesn't want to come over to see me, and that he has to tell me this something in person. But, since he won't come over to see me, he says I have to wait until Friday to get together to see him. There's no way in hell I'm going to wait all week to find out this news (which may or may not be good at all). So he tells me.
He doesn't feel a spark.
He gave it time. He tried.
Nothing.
And since I told him that I loved him,
he felt that he was just dragging me along.
For all the wrong reasons.
The thought of never getting to kiss him again, never holding him at night, it just tears me apart. The first man I'd ever dated, and truly cared about beyond just another hot guy I know. He's the first man who's ever showed me just how special I really am - and he made me feel and believe it, too. Because of him, I willingly got kicked out of my house, stood up to my father for his bigoted hatred of "fags," and did what I had to do to live my OWN life outside of my parent's house. He is the world to me, and I would willingly still do anything for him.
Last night, I was hanging out with an old friend from college. I had a huge crush on him, and thought I'd be so happy to date him now. But sitting there, watching a movie with him, something wasn't right. It wasn't the man I care about. It wasn't the same. I couldn't hold his hand or cuddle with him. He wasn't my love.
I cried again last night, laying in bed cuddling with a pillow. I can't kiss the pillow goodnight.
I'm crushed.
Torn.
Devastated.
And I don't know what to do.
I want him back so badly.
Well, let's back up a few weeks.
On the two-month anniversary of our first date, I decided I would take a giant leap and tell the man about whom I care deeply just how much I care for him; I told him I love him. It was an awkward night. Nerves kicked in, upset stomachs took over. Awkward, indeed. Nevertheless, it seems everything was fine.
But I guess an old friend and new conversations got him to thinking. So began almost an entire week of not talking to this man about whom I care so much. Torture ensued within me when he wouldn't return my voicemails or answer my calls. The pain through which I went that week just devastated me. I didn't know what I'd done to warrant such blatant neglect. I was scared that I was losing him.
Finally, he comes into my work one Saturday afternoon. He was with friends; he didn't say more than a handful of words to me. It was definitely awkward. After work that night, he actually answered his phone for the first time in a week, and told me he was too tired to come see me. I guess I'm not much of a prize to seek anymore. So much has changed from the time when he would beg me to go into work late just so he could stay over and not have to get up so early to leave.
I didn't call him at all for three days. Finally, he calls me Tuesday night (6/17), and tells me he has something to tell me, that he doesn't want to come over to see me, and that he has to tell me this something in person. But, since he won't come over to see me, he says I have to wait until Friday to get together to see him. There's no way in hell I'm going to wait all week to find out this news (which may or may not be good at all). So he tells me.
He doesn't feel a spark.
He gave it time. He tried.
Nothing.
And since I told him that I loved him,
he felt that he was just dragging me along.
For all the wrong reasons.
The thought of never getting to kiss him again, never holding him at night, it just tears me apart. The first man I'd ever dated, and truly cared about beyond just another hot guy I know. He's the first man who's ever showed me just how special I really am - and he made me feel and believe it, too. Because of him, I willingly got kicked out of my house, stood up to my father for his bigoted hatred of "fags," and did what I had to do to live my OWN life outside of my parent's house. He is the world to me, and I would willingly still do anything for him.
Last night, I was hanging out with an old friend from college. I had a huge crush on him, and thought I'd be so happy to date him now. But sitting there, watching a movie with him, something wasn't right. It wasn't the man I care about. It wasn't the same. I couldn't hold his hand or cuddle with him. He wasn't my love.
I cried again last night, laying in bed cuddling with a pillow. I can't kiss the pillow goodnight.
I'm crushed.
Torn.
Devastated.
And I don't know what to do.
I want him back so badly.
5.28.2008
I think I love you.
Maybe I'm amazed at the way you laugh.
Or it's the way you get so amused at little things.
Or the way you let me cuddle with you and smother you all night long, just so I can feel safe.
Or the way we judge movie previews together.
And how I still get the jitters when you call
(I still get butterflies, by the way).
Or maybe it's how you kiss me.
Or how we laugh when we're in bed together.
Or how I feel so natural with you in my arms.
And maybe I'm so scared at where this is going.
Part of me feels too right.
Part of me feels too safe.
Something inside me is telling me that something could go wrong.
I don't want to be crushed.
Not again.
Something tells me this feels so good. It feels perfect.
Cuddling. Kissing.
Loving.
Is this love?
I think I love you.
But I'm afraid.
I'm afraid of falling without a safety net.
I'm afraid of getting hurt again.
I'm afraid that one day I'll be left alone in the dark, again,
like I was before I met you,
when you saved me.
I'm petrified of being the over-protective,
tremendously jealous,
rediculously,
insanely,
psychotically derranged boyfriend
that smothers,
hinders,
prevents,
and accuses,
even when there's nothing to be jealous of.
So walk with me,
talk with me,
just be with me.
Only me.
I'm ready for committment.
I'm ready for trust,
and understanding,
and true love.
A love there is no cure for.
The love I've been waiting for
my whole life long.
Or it's the way you get so amused at little things.
Or the way you let me cuddle with you and smother you all night long, just so I can feel safe.
Or the way we judge movie previews together.
And how I still get the jitters when you call
(I still get butterflies, by the way).
Or maybe it's how you kiss me.
Or how we laugh when we're in bed together.
Or how I feel so natural with you in my arms.
And maybe I'm so scared at where this is going.
Part of me feels too right.
Part of me feels too safe.
Something inside me is telling me that something could go wrong.
I don't want to be crushed.
Not again.
Something tells me this feels so good. It feels perfect.
Cuddling. Kissing.
Loving.
Is this love?
I think I love you.
But I'm afraid.
I'm afraid of falling without a safety net.
I'm afraid of getting hurt again.
I'm afraid that one day I'll be left alone in the dark, again,
like I was before I met you,
when you saved me.
I'm petrified of being the over-protective,
tremendously jealous,
rediculously,
insanely,
psychotically derranged boyfriend
that smothers,
hinders,
prevents,
and accuses,
even when there's nothing to be jealous of.
So walk with me,
talk with me,
just be with me.
Only me.
I'm ready for committment.
I'm ready for trust,
and understanding,
and true love.
A love there is no cure for.
The love I've been waiting for
my whole life long.
5.27.2008
Maybe.
"Do not spoil what you have by desiring what you have not; but remember that what you now have was once among the things you only hoped for."
Maybe we were supposed to meet the wrong people before meeting the right one so that, when we finally meet the right person, we will know how to be grateful for that gift.
Maybe when the door of happiness closes, another opens; but, often times, we look so long at the closed door that we don't even see the new one which has been opened for us.
Maybe it is true that we don't know what we have until we lose it, but it is also true that we don't know what we have been missing until it arrives.
Maybe the happiest of people don't necessarily have the best of everything; they just make the most of everything that comes along their way.
Maybe the brightest future will always be based on a forgotten past; after all, you can't go on successfully in life until you let go of your past mistakes, failures, and heartaches.
Maybe you should dream what you want to dream; go where you want to go, be what you want to be, because you have only one life and one chance to do all the things you dream of, and want to do.
Maybe there are moments in life when you miss someone - a parent, a spouse, a friend, a child, your girlfriend/boyfriend - - so much that you just want to pick them from your dreams and hug them for real, so that once they are around you appreciate them more.
Maybe the best kind of friend is the kind you can sit on a porch and swing with, never say a word, and then walk away feeling like it was the best conversation you've ever had.
Maybe you should always try to put yourself in others' shoes. If you feel that something could hurt you, it probably will hurt the other person, too.
Maybe you should do something nice for someone every single day, even if it is simply to leave them alone.
Maybe giving someone all your love is never an assurance that they will love you back. Don't expect love in return; just wait for it to grow in their heart; but if it doesn't, be content that it grew in yours.
Maybe happiness waits for all those who cry, all those who hurt, all those who have searched, and all those who have tried, for only they can appreciate the importance of all the people who have touched their lives.
Maybe you shouldn't go for looks; they can deceive; don't go for wealth; even that fades away. Go for someone who makes you smile, because it takes only a smile to make a dark day seem bright. Find the one who makes your heart smile.
Maybe you should hope for enough happiness to make you sweet, enough trials to make you strong, enough sorrow to keep you human, and enough hope to make you happy.
Maybe you should try to live your life to the fullest because when you were born, you were crying and everyone around you was smiling, but when you die, you can be the one who is smiling and everyone around you is crying.
Maybe you could send this message to those people who mean something to you, to those who have touched your life, to those who can and do make you smile when you really need it, to those who make you see the brighter side of things when you are really down, and to all those whom you want to know that you appreciate them and their friendship.
Maybe we were supposed to meet the wrong people before meeting the right one so that, when we finally meet the right person, we will know how to be grateful for that gift.
Maybe when the door of happiness closes, another opens; but, often times, we look so long at the closed door that we don't even see the new one which has been opened for us.
Maybe it is true that we don't know what we have until we lose it, but it is also true that we don't know what we have been missing until it arrives.
Maybe the happiest of people don't necessarily have the best of everything; they just make the most of everything that comes along their way.
Maybe the brightest future will always be based on a forgotten past; after all, you can't go on successfully in life until you let go of your past mistakes, failures, and heartaches.
Maybe you should dream what you want to dream; go where you want to go, be what you want to be, because you have only one life and one chance to do all the things you dream of, and want to do.
Maybe there are moments in life when you miss someone - a parent, a spouse, a friend, a child, your girlfriend/boyfriend - - so much that you just want to pick them from your dreams and hug them for real, so that once they are around you appreciate them more.
Maybe the best kind of friend is the kind you can sit on a porch and swing with, never say a word, and then walk away feeling like it was the best conversation you've ever had.
Maybe you should always try to put yourself in others' shoes. If you feel that something could hurt you, it probably will hurt the other person, too.
Maybe you should do something nice for someone every single day, even if it is simply to leave them alone.
Maybe giving someone all your love is never an assurance that they will love you back. Don't expect love in return; just wait for it to grow in their heart; but if it doesn't, be content that it grew in yours.
Maybe happiness waits for all those who cry, all those who hurt, all those who have searched, and all those who have tried, for only they can appreciate the importance of all the people who have touched their lives.
Maybe you shouldn't go for looks; they can deceive; don't go for wealth; even that fades away. Go for someone who makes you smile, because it takes only a smile to make a dark day seem bright. Find the one who makes your heart smile.
Maybe you should hope for enough happiness to make you sweet, enough trials to make you strong, enough sorrow to keep you human, and enough hope to make you happy.
Maybe you should try to live your life to the fullest because when you were born, you were crying and everyone around you was smiling, but when you die, you can be the one who is smiling and everyone around you is crying.
Maybe you could send this message to those people who mean something to you, to those who have touched your life, to those who can and do make you smile when you really need it, to those who make you see the brighter side of things when you are really down, and to all those whom you want to know that you appreciate them and their friendship.
4.23.2008
The moment.
Sunday, April 13, 2008. We were at the movie theater, "Miss Pettigrew Lives For A Day." It was the first night he held my hand... He knew I was too nervous to make that move; he did it for me. While the opening trivia and such was rolling, he asked me to go get him some popcorn, those beautiful, brown, puppy-dog eyes of his staring up at me. They just seemed to say, "I need you. Please be my man." That moment was the one. As I looked into his eyes, and replied, "Anything for you." That was it. That's when my heart released its full emotion to him. That's when my heart became his.
4.20.2008
Sleepsong
Lay down your head
And I'll sing you a lullaby
Back to the years
Of loo-li,lai-ley
And I'll sing you to sleep
And I'll sing you tomorrow
Bless you with love
For the road that you go
May you sail fair
To the far fields of fortune
With dimonds and pearls
At your head and your feet
And may you need never
To banish misfortune
May you find kindness
In all that you meet
May there always be angels
To watch over you
To guard you each step of the way
To guard you and keep you
Safe from all harm
Loo-li,loo-li,lai-ley
May you bring love
And may you bring happieness
Be loved in return
To the end your days
Now fall off to sleep
I'm not meaning to keep you
I'll just sit for awhile
And sing
Loo-li,lai-ley
May there always be angels
To watch over you
To guard you each step of the way
To guard you and keep you
Safe from all harm
Loo-li,loo-li,lai-ley
Sleepsong.
By: Secret Garden.
Loo-li,loo-li,lai-ley
And I'll sing you a lullaby
Back to the years
Of loo-li,lai-ley
And I'll sing you to sleep
And I'll sing you tomorrow
Bless you with love
For the road that you go
May you sail fair
To the far fields of fortune
With dimonds and pearls
At your head and your feet
And may you need never
To banish misfortune
May you find kindness
In all that you meet
May there always be angels
To watch over you
To guard you each step of the way
To guard you and keep you
Safe from all harm
Loo-li,loo-li,lai-ley
May you bring love
And may you bring happieness
Be loved in return
To the end your days
Now fall off to sleep
I'm not meaning to keep you
I'll just sit for awhile
And sing
Loo-li,lai-ley
May there always be angels
To watch over you
To guard you each step of the way
To guard you and keep you
Safe from all harm
Loo-li,loo-li,lai-ley
Sleepsong.
By: Secret Garden.
Loo-li,loo-li,lai-ley
4.19.2008
It's been far too long
So I know it's been quite a while since I've written. I've got a lot to update on since my last real update-esque blog back in December, so hold on tight!
First of all, the "break-up" with the asshole was rough at first. He begged for me back. Many times. Of course, I thought about it, apprehensive all the while. Luckily, I have some very smart and supportive friends who steered me away from him and his neussances. He still texts me every once in a while. I'm going to start ignoring them. I don't deserve that.
I've been seeing this new guy, Joseph. I really like him a lot. He's so sweet and wonderful and funny. We've had about four or five great dates now, and I've even shared my first kiss ever with him. Last night we went out to the Paramount Cafe downtown, ran into a couple of friends of his, and as I was dropping him off at home at the end of the evening, I really wanted to just blurt out, "I love you!" Things are going slowly... which begs the question in my mind: how slow is too slow, and how fast is too fast? We've done the whole holding hands, had our first kiss (which was everything I'd expected and more... simply fireworks!), and last night there was hand holding and knee touching and stuff while we were out. The thing I want most is to cuddle with him on the couch, watch a movie, cuddle in bed all night and just hold him in my arms. I want to be able to kiss him and hug him and care for him. I wake up in the mornings wishing he were there with me. I fall asleep at night so saddened at his absence that I cuddle with pillows to ease my pain, even if just slightly. I want this to work. So badly. I deserve it.
I've never had a boyfriend. The asshole to whom i referred above doesn't count. I never met him. Ever. None of my previous assholes count either. Everything I've ever had that might even resemble a fraction of a relationship has only been online, never meeting them, nothing ever coming of it. Therefore, none of it counts. I've been treated like shit, used, abused, tossed aside like a meaningless old rag, and, not once have I ever been cared for with the same passion and enthusiasm with which I love those men I thought could have been something more. It's time that I found someone who'll treat me with respect. Joseph does. He once told me that he wasn't feeling sparks. Probably because I was too nervous and shy to open up fully to him. I'm working on that; each day is a step forward. But he said that I'd done everything right - initiated the conversations, asked him out on a first date, asked him out on a second date; I TRIED! Since then, he initiated the third date, the hand holding, and the kissing. (I'll never forget his gorgeous, deep brown eyes looking up at me beneath the stars when he asked me, "So are you gonna kiss me yet?" I miss that. I want that again.) Call me a hopeless romantic, but I would like to think that I have a highly plausible chance of having my first boyfriend very soon. I want to change my status and say "In a Committed Relationship." I want to be able to answer questions when coworkers ask about my boyfriend. I would die to be able to not flirt with someone because I have my man, the man for whom I care about deeper and more passionately than anything I've ever cared about before.
We'll see how it goes. Wish me luck!
First of all, the "break-up" with the asshole was rough at first. He begged for me back. Many times. Of course, I thought about it, apprehensive all the while. Luckily, I have some very smart and supportive friends who steered me away from him and his neussances. He still texts me every once in a while. I'm going to start ignoring them. I don't deserve that.
I've been seeing this new guy, Joseph. I really like him a lot. He's so sweet and wonderful and funny. We've had about four or five great dates now, and I've even shared my first kiss ever with him. Last night we went out to the Paramount Cafe downtown, ran into a couple of friends of his, and as I was dropping him off at home at the end of the evening, I really wanted to just blurt out, "I love you!" Things are going slowly... which begs the question in my mind: how slow is too slow, and how fast is too fast? We've done the whole holding hands, had our first kiss (which was everything I'd expected and more... simply fireworks!), and last night there was hand holding and knee touching and stuff while we were out. The thing I want most is to cuddle with him on the couch, watch a movie, cuddle in bed all night and just hold him in my arms. I want to be able to kiss him and hug him and care for him. I wake up in the mornings wishing he were there with me. I fall asleep at night so saddened at his absence that I cuddle with pillows to ease my pain, even if just slightly. I want this to work. So badly. I deserve it.
I've never had a boyfriend. The asshole to whom i referred above doesn't count. I never met him. Ever. None of my previous assholes count either. Everything I've ever had that might even resemble a fraction of a relationship has only been online, never meeting them, nothing ever coming of it. Therefore, none of it counts. I've been treated like shit, used, abused, tossed aside like a meaningless old rag, and, not once have I ever been cared for with the same passion and enthusiasm with which I love those men I thought could have been something more. It's time that I found someone who'll treat me with respect. Joseph does. He once told me that he wasn't feeling sparks. Probably because I was too nervous and shy to open up fully to him. I'm working on that; each day is a step forward. But he said that I'd done everything right - initiated the conversations, asked him out on a first date, asked him out on a second date; I TRIED! Since then, he initiated the third date, the hand holding, and the kissing. (I'll never forget his gorgeous, deep brown eyes looking up at me beneath the stars when he asked me, "So are you gonna kiss me yet?" I miss that. I want that again.) Call me a hopeless romantic, but I would like to think that I have a highly plausible chance of having my first boyfriend very soon. I want to change my status and say "In a Committed Relationship." I want to be able to answer questions when coworkers ask about my boyfriend. I would die to be able to not flirt with someone because I have my man, the man for whom I care about deeper and more passionately than anything I've ever cared about before.
We'll see how it goes. Wish me luck!
3.22.2008
Straight Acting: The Truth Behind the Myth
Straight Acting: The Truth Behind the Myth
Mar 17, 2008
by Duane Wells
Los Angeles, CA - Do you really know what it means to be “straight acting”? Or do you just think you know?
If you’re a gay man, you have more than likely encountered the term ‘straight acting’. In fact, through your experience with online dating, networking or a range of other gay-themed social interactions, you’ve probably even formulated a definition of the term—irrespective of whether or not you’ve ever employed it to describe either yourself or someone with whom you’ve been acquainted. However, your own characterizations of what ‘straight acting’ implies may only begin to touch upon the personal relevance and import of a description that has increasingly come to be used as a defining characteristic among gay men.
Beyond the simple meaning of the heterocentric classification, the larger questions are—How accurate are our perceptions of what it means to be ‘straight acting’? What is the source of those perceptions? And what are their implications on the lens through which we view ourselves and relate to the outside world?
Straight Acting: Gay Men, Masculinity and Finding True Love, the new book from author, columnist and psychotherapist Angelo Pezzote, answers all of these questions and more in a compelling and sometimes deeply personal way. A sort of guide book on navigating issues like internalized homophobia, self-esteem and building sustainable relationships based on healthy principles, Pezzote’s new tome provides a road map to real intimacy for all men—gay and straight.
In a recent GayWired exclusive interview, the popular "Ask Angelo" columnist talked about the inspiration for his new book, what it really means to be ‘straight acting’ and how gay men sometimes resemble characters right out of the film Mean Girls.
GayWired: What inspired you to write this book?
Angelo Pezzote: I think there’s some truth in that what we teach is also what we need to learn most. My passion came mostly from my own struggle coming to terms with the issues, particularly from when I lived in West Hollywood. While I tried my best, I just wasn't an L.A. person.
I couldn't relate to the people there and it was a painfully lonely time. Emergent from this personal experience, in combination with my professional education and clinical experience, I was inspired to address the problem because I realized I wasn’t the only gay man feeling the way I did. There were many gay men who felt lonely just like me no matter where they lived.
So, besides helping others, writing the book was a way for me to figure out what was happening in our community around disconnection, and to figure out a way for all of us to work through it together. In this way, I think we’re all students and teachers.
GW: So as a student yourself in this process, what was the most revealing or enlightening lesson you personally got from your journey in writing this book?
AP: The intellectual endeavor to "map" Straight Acting- the what is it, where does it come from, and how does it work—the first half of the book, helped me tremendously to cope with it myself; and to help other gay men cope with it through my private practice, workshops, retreats, Ask Angelo advice column, podcasts, teleseminars, and AskAngelo.com website. We can change something if we understand it. Which leads me to the second part of the book, which focuses on solutions.
Thinking those out and writing them inspired me to live my advice each day, not just preach it. So I strive to embody my words.
What was particularly enlightening was adopting a daily practice to stay emotionally open, despite life's daily challenges. It's the idea of being fully yourself and being loving, rather than focusing on trying to get love—thinking it's something you don't have—from someone else. It's focusing on what's present, not absent. It's celebrating what's right about you, not wrong. Now that's attractive! And it gets your man.
GW: What separates Straight Acting: Gay Men, Masculinity and Finding True Love from other gay self-help books?
AP: I think my book reflects a slice of reality -the truth of the way a piece of it really is that comes from the heart. I think both my own self-disclosures and the stories of the men I share in it makes it honest, human, and wise. I think this enables my book to touch readers’ hearts and souls, as well as their minds, which allows the book to have a greater affect and inspire real change.
GW: Speaking of self- disclosure, this book is very personally revelatory. Were there any parts that were difficult for you to write or re-live?
AP: No. I'm pretty self-aware. What was challenging for me was deciding what to reveal and how much of that to reveal, and what to keep. I made my decisions based on making sure that what I shared was both on topic and benefited the reader. In other words, that my sharing wasn't for me, but more for my message and my audience.
GW: Chapter two suggests that every gay man needs to read this book. Why do you think that?
AP: I do think every gay men—out or otherwise—can benefit from reading this book. I think that homonegativity is so strong and pervasive that even though we may not be aware of it—even though we may not even consciously subscribe to it—it can still run our lives. It works like the white noise machine I have in my office. I'm aware that it's on when I first turn it on. But after awhile, I don't notice it anymore. I don't even hear it even though it's on. I'm not aware of it again until I go to shut it off when I leave.
Similarly, we're constantly bombarded with powerfully influential messages of how to be a "real man" in America. They are so prevalent that they just become part of us… ingrained. And we can collude, even in the subtlest of ways, to tone down our gayness and pump up our manhood to escape feminizing gay stereotypes. We deal with anti-gay sentiment from the time we're very young. And that homophobia and heterosexism can be traumatizing.
So we learn to mute our gayness to conform in order to be more "acceptable." This "straight acting, straight appearing," "discreet," straight guise that most of us do to some degree to protect ourselves, and win more love, is gay male drag. It's buzz cuts, ink, goatees, military, athletic, or other manly uniforms, youthful gym bodies, and more. It's gay men's camouflage. It's a gay decoy that says "I'm gay, but I'm not a faggot. I have value because I'm masculine."
I'm not anti-masculine. If you're masculine that's fine. If you're not, that's fine too. A mix—fine. It's when we take on society's idea that to be a man means being masculine. It's using masculinity as a cover, to not be "too flamboyant." You don't have to be effeminate if you're not. You just have to be the gay man you are without any facade.
In fact, while my focus is on gay men, I think all men can benefit from reading my book. Moreover the book is for any person who's experienced any form of oppression for it's empowerment.
GW: You counsel gay men as your career. So on the scale of issues affecting gay men today what do you rank as the most pressing?
AP: Absolutely, the internalized homophobia we ingest from our polluted environment. Anti-gay sentiment creates shame and low esteem, which in turn drives self-destructive behavior like unsafe sex, alcohol and drug abuse, excessive dieting and exercise, as well as anxiety, depression, addiction, attitude, straight acting, and disconnection. All of that puts a wedge between gay men and comes from internalized homophobia. It disrupts how we connect with ourselves and one another. I think it impacts every facet of our lives.
GW: Allow me to play devil’s advocate. As younger gay men are learning to be very comfortable with their sexuality from a very young age, do you think the concept of identifying as ‘straight-acting’ is becoming increasingly generational? Does this shift among gay youth represent progress?
AP: I think there's basically two camps of the young generation. One that fully embraces who they are, censoring nothing about themselves, and wanting to be recognized and treated just like anyone else—which represents progress.
However, other gay youth ditch the gay label, wanting to be seen as "normal" from that place of shame I've been talking about.
So whether it's progressive, or it's just an extension of the closet—the closet of masculinity, depends on where the youth is coming from—a place of esteem or a place of shame. We can't forgot the staggering gay youth suicide rates as well as the rising practice of unsafe sex, new HIV infection rates, and alcohol and drug abuse among gay youth. Obviously shame and low esteem, that come from internalized homonegativity and drive these self-destructive behaviors, are still an issue. All is not yet well in paradise. While I recognize and appreciate progress, being gay is still hard.
GW: How do you feel about Los Angeles these days? Still feel like it’s not your kind of town?
AP: While LA is fine, I'm just not an LA person.
GW: Fair enough. But given your own negative experience with living in a gay mecca, what do you say to gay men about reconciling where they live with how they live? Especially if the old adage ‘Wherever you go, there you are’ holds true.
AP: It's funny ‘cause I think we can be most like Mean Girls in our gayest places: West Hollywood, Chelsea, FireIsland, Provincetown—heck even in gay bars, clubs and organizations where we ought to treat each other more like big brothers. The level of attitude can be toxic.
Counterintuitively, some gays in less metropolitan places may in fact find more of a sense of friendliness and connectedness in their community than their counterparts in large cities who can feel extremely isolated. So I don't think it's about where you live at all. We have an issue of disconnect in the gay men's community that needs to be addressed and it transcends location.
Mar 17, 2008
by Duane Wells
Los Angeles, CA - Do you really know what it means to be “straight acting”? Or do you just think you know?
If you’re a gay man, you have more than likely encountered the term ‘straight acting’. In fact, through your experience with online dating, networking or a range of other gay-themed social interactions, you’ve probably even formulated a definition of the term—irrespective of whether or not you’ve ever employed it to describe either yourself or someone with whom you’ve been acquainted. However, your own characterizations of what ‘straight acting’ implies may only begin to touch upon the personal relevance and import of a description that has increasingly come to be used as a defining characteristic among gay men.
Beyond the simple meaning of the heterocentric classification, the larger questions are—How accurate are our perceptions of what it means to be ‘straight acting’? What is the source of those perceptions? And what are their implications on the lens through which we view ourselves and relate to the outside world?
Straight Acting: Gay Men, Masculinity and Finding True Love, the new book from author, columnist and psychotherapist Angelo Pezzote, answers all of these questions and more in a compelling and sometimes deeply personal way. A sort of guide book on navigating issues like internalized homophobia, self-esteem and building sustainable relationships based on healthy principles, Pezzote’s new tome provides a road map to real intimacy for all men—gay and straight.
In a recent GayWired exclusive interview, the popular "Ask Angelo" columnist talked about the inspiration for his new book, what it really means to be ‘straight acting’ and how gay men sometimes resemble characters right out of the film Mean Girls.
GayWired: What inspired you to write this book?
Angelo Pezzote: I think there’s some truth in that what we teach is also what we need to learn most. My passion came mostly from my own struggle coming to terms with the issues, particularly from when I lived in West Hollywood. While I tried my best, I just wasn't an L.A. person.
I couldn't relate to the people there and it was a painfully lonely time. Emergent from this personal experience, in combination with my professional education and clinical experience, I was inspired to address the problem because I realized I wasn’t the only gay man feeling the way I did. There were many gay men who felt lonely just like me no matter where they lived.
So, besides helping others, writing the book was a way for me to figure out what was happening in our community around disconnection, and to figure out a way for all of us to work through it together. In this way, I think we’re all students and teachers.
GW: So as a student yourself in this process, what was the most revealing or enlightening lesson you personally got from your journey in writing this book?
AP: The intellectual endeavor to "map" Straight Acting- the what is it, where does it come from, and how does it work—the first half of the book, helped me tremendously to cope with it myself; and to help other gay men cope with it through my private practice, workshops, retreats, Ask Angelo advice column, podcasts, teleseminars, and AskAngelo.com website. We can change something if we understand it. Which leads me to the second part of the book, which focuses on solutions.
Thinking those out and writing them inspired me to live my advice each day, not just preach it. So I strive to embody my words.
What was particularly enlightening was adopting a daily practice to stay emotionally open, despite life's daily challenges. It's the idea of being fully yourself and being loving, rather than focusing on trying to get love—thinking it's something you don't have—from someone else. It's focusing on what's present, not absent. It's celebrating what's right about you, not wrong. Now that's attractive! And it gets your man.
GW: What separates Straight Acting: Gay Men, Masculinity and Finding True Love from other gay self-help books?
AP: I think my book reflects a slice of reality -the truth of the way a piece of it really is that comes from the heart. I think both my own self-disclosures and the stories of the men I share in it makes it honest, human, and wise. I think this enables my book to touch readers’ hearts and souls, as well as their minds, which allows the book to have a greater affect and inspire real change.
GW: Speaking of self- disclosure, this book is very personally revelatory. Were there any parts that were difficult for you to write or re-live?
AP: No. I'm pretty self-aware. What was challenging for me was deciding what to reveal and how much of that to reveal, and what to keep. I made my decisions based on making sure that what I shared was both on topic and benefited the reader. In other words, that my sharing wasn't for me, but more for my message and my audience.
GW: Chapter two suggests that every gay man needs to read this book. Why do you think that?
AP: I do think every gay men—out or otherwise—can benefit from reading this book. I think that homonegativity is so strong and pervasive that even though we may not be aware of it—even though we may not even consciously subscribe to it—it can still run our lives. It works like the white noise machine I have in my office. I'm aware that it's on when I first turn it on. But after awhile, I don't notice it anymore. I don't even hear it even though it's on. I'm not aware of it again until I go to shut it off when I leave.
Similarly, we're constantly bombarded with powerfully influential messages of how to be a "real man" in America. They are so prevalent that they just become part of us… ingrained. And we can collude, even in the subtlest of ways, to tone down our gayness and pump up our manhood to escape feminizing gay stereotypes. We deal with anti-gay sentiment from the time we're very young. And that homophobia and heterosexism can be traumatizing.
So we learn to mute our gayness to conform in order to be more "acceptable." This "straight acting, straight appearing," "discreet," straight guise that most of us do to some degree to protect ourselves, and win more love, is gay male drag. It's buzz cuts, ink, goatees, military, athletic, or other manly uniforms, youthful gym bodies, and more. It's gay men's camouflage. It's a gay decoy that says "I'm gay, but I'm not a faggot. I have value because I'm masculine."
I'm not anti-masculine. If you're masculine that's fine. If you're not, that's fine too. A mix—fine. It's when we take on society's idea that to be a man means being masculine. It's using masculinity as a cover, to not be "too flamboyant." You don't have to be effeminate if you're not. You just have to be the gay man you are without any facade.
In fact, while my focus is on gay men, I think all men can benefit from reading my book. Moreover the book is for any person who's experienced any form of oppression for it's empowerment.
GW: You counsel gay men as your career. So on the scale of issues affecting gay men today what do you rank as the most pressing?
AP: Absolutely, the internalized homophobia we ingest from our polluted environment. Anti-gay sentiment creates shame and low esteem, which in turn drives self-destructive behavior like unsafe sex, alcohol and drug abuse, excessive dieting and exercise, as well as anxiety, depression, addiction, attitude, straight acting, and disconnection. All of that puts a wedge between gay men and comes from internalized homophobia. It disrupts how we connect with ourselves and one another. I think it impacts every facet of our lives.
GW: Allow me to play devil’s advocate. As younger gay men are learning to be very comfortable with their sexuality from a very young age, do you think the concept of identifying as ‘straight-acting’ is becoming increasingly generational? Does this shift among gay youth represent progress?
AP: I think there's basically two camps of the young generation. One that fully embraces who they are, censoring nothing about themselves, and wanting to be recognized and treated just like anyone else—which represents progress.
However, other gay youth ditch the gay label, wanting to be seen as "normal" from that place of shame I've been talking about.
So whether it's progressive, or it's just an extension of the closet—the closet of masculinity, depends on where the youth is coming from—a place of esteem or a place of shame. We can't forgot the staggering gay youth suicide rates as well as the rising practice of unsafe sex, new HIV infection rates, and alcohol and drug abuse among gay youth. Obviously shame and low esteem, that come from internalized homonegativity and drive these self-destructive behaviors, are still an issue. All is not yet well in paradise. While I recognize and appreciate progress, being gay is still hard.
GW: How do you feel about Los Angeles these days? Still feel like it’s not your kind of town?
AP: While LA is fine, I'm just not an LA person.
GW: Fair enough. But given your own negative experience with living in a gay mecca, what do you say to gay men about reconciling where they live with how they live? Especially if the old adage ‘Wherever you go, there you are’ holds true.
AP: It's funny ‘cause I think we can be most like Mean Girls in our gayest places: West Hollywood, Chelsea, FireIsland, Provincetown—heck even in gay bars, clubs and organizations where we ought to treat each other more like big brothers. The level of attitude can be toxic.
Counterintuitively, some gays in less metropolitan places may in fact find more of a sense of friendliness and connectedness in their community than their counterparts in large cities who can feel extremely isolated. So I don't think it's about where you live at all. We have an issue of disconnect in the gay men's community that needs to be addressed and it transcends location.
2.26.2008
That fine, fine line.
There's a fine, fine line between a lover and a friend.
There's a fine, fine line between reality and pretend.
And you never know 'til you reach the top if it was worth the uphill climb.
There's a fine, fine line between love,
And a waste of time.
There's a fine, fine line between a fairy tale and a lie.
And there's a fine, fine line between, "you're wonderful," and, "goodbye."
I guess if someone doesn't love you back, it isn't such a crime.
But there's a fine, fine line between love,
And a waste of your time.
And I don't have the time to waste on you anymore.
I don't think that you even know what you're looking for.
For my own sanity, I've got to close the door,
And walk away.
There's a fine, fine line between together and not.
And there's a fine, fine line between what you wanted and what you've got.
You gotta go after the things you want while you're still in your prime.
There's a fine, fine line between love,
And a waste of time.
There's a fine, fine line between reality and pretend.
And you never know 'til you reach the top if it was worth the uphill climb.
There's a fine, fine line between love,
And a waste of time.
There's a fine, fine line between a fairy tale and a lie.
And there's a fine, fine line between, "you're wonderful," and, "goodbye."
I guess if someone doesn't love you back, it isn't such a crime.
But there's a fine, fine line between love,
And a waste of your time.
And I don't have the time to waste on you anymore.
I don't think that you even know what you're looking for.
For my own sanity, I've got to close the door,
And walk away.
There's a fine, fine line between together and not.
And there's a fine, fine line between what you wanted and what you've got.
You gotta go after the things you want while you're still in your prime.
There's a fine, fine line between love,
And a waste of time.
2.21.2008
Yes. Far too late to apologize.
I'm Holding On Your Rope
Got Me Ten Feet Off The Ground
And I'm Hearing What You Say
But I Just Can't Make A Sound
You Tell Me That You Need Me
Then You Go And Cut Me Down
But Wait...
You Tell Me That You're Sorry
Didn't Think I'd Turn Around And Say..
That It's Too Late To Apologize, It's Too Late
I Said It's Too Late To Apologize, It's Too Late
I'd Take Another Chance, Take A Fall, Take A Shot For You
And I Need You Like A Heart Needs A Beat
(but That's Nothing New)
Yeah Yeah
I Loved You With A Fire Red, Now It's Turning Blue
And You Say
Sorry Like An Angel, Heavens Not The Thing For You,
But I'm Afraid
It's Too Late To Apologize, It's Too Late
I Said It's Too Late To Apologizes, It's Too Late
Woahooo Woah
It's Too Late To Apologize, It's Too Late
I Said It's Too Late To Apologize, It's Too Late
I Said It's Too Late To Apologize, Yeah Yeah
I Said It's Too Late To Apologize, A Yeah
I'm Holding Your Rope
Got Me Ten Feet Off The Ground...
Got Me Ten Feet Off The Ground
And I'm Hearing What You Say
But I Just Can't Make A Sound
You Tell Me That You Need Me
Then You Go And Cut Me Down
But Wait...
You Tell Me That You're Sorry
Didn't Think I'd Turn Around And Say..
That It's Too Late To Apologize, It's Too Late
I Said It's Too Late To Apologize, It's Too Late
I'd Take Another Chance, Take A Fall, Take A Shot For You
And I Need You Like A Heart Needs A Beat
(but That's Nothing New)
Yeah Yeah
I Loved You With A Fire Red, Now It's Turning Blue
And You Say
Sorry Like An Angel, Heavens Not The Thing For You,
But I'm Afraid
It's Too Late To Apologize, It's Too Late
I Said It's Too Late To Apologizes, It's Too Late
Woahooo Woah
It's Too Late To Apologize, It's Too Late
I Said It's Too Late To Apologize, It's Too Late
I Said It's Too Late To Apologize, Yeah Yeah
I Said It's Too Late To Apologize, A Yeah
I'm Holding Your Rope
Got Me Ten Feet Off The Ground...
12.15.2007
The Calendar Blog
October 4, 2007: The best night of my life. I met Justin in the Connexion chat room while I was house-sitting for my friend. We hit it off pretty well. Let's look back on part of the conversation that night:
Me: if you ever want a babysitter while you're
out on hot dates, i'l volunteer!
Justin: lol thanks
Justin: you arnt gunna be my hot date?
Me: are you asking me out?
Justin: lol maybe when I get there
At that time, I really didn't think anything of it. Yeah, it made me melt like ice cream on a hot July afternoon. But I tried not to get my hopes up. I knew what could happen if I did. I didn't want to get hurt. I didn't want to get let down. I didn't want another disappointment. So, over the next couple weeks, I just played it cool and went with the flow. Something I've never done before, it took so much effort to NOT fall for him as quickly as I did with other guys. I held myself up. I didn't make a big fuss about it. The biggest part: I didn't go and tell everybody I know every thing that happened between him and I; I just kept him my little secret while I waited to see where fate would take us.
Looking at the next week or so, I realize how much I began to fall. I've learned so much about him. He began a blog on this very site not long after I met him. I remember him telling me and sending me the link. I remember reading it for the first time. "A look at life through my eyes. A single father, a cancer survivor, a cancer patient, an HIV sufferer, an animal lover...but most of all....just me. This is a look at who I am..outside of my kids dad, and my doctors patient."
And I read it again. "A look at life through my eyes. A single father, a cancer survivor, a cancer patient, an HIV sufferer, an animal lover...but most of all....just me. This is a look at who I am..outside of my kids dad, and my doctors patient."
And again.
And then I told him something I was so afraid to tell him: I care about you so much that I will stand by your side through everything that comes your, our, way.
The previous couple weeks were so beautiful as we laughed together over the phone, as I sang him to sleep because he was crying and not having good nights, and as we made plans of what we would do together, and with the kids, once they got here. He let me into his life, and told me things about him and his kids that just made me feel special knowing them. Garrit is deaf. (Good thing I took some sign language classes in college, right?) They love teddy bears. They will love crawling all over me and using me as a jungle-gym and just playing with me. They love chocolate. And Ms. Elsie! He posted a blog about her, just pictures of her tiny fingers, her beautiful, innocent eyes and nose. The though of just being able to hold her made me feel so happy, so much more responsible than I've probably felt holding my own niece and nephew. Maybe it's because I'd hoped to be something of a father for her some day. I really, really hoped. I went bought some teddy bears from Build-A-Bear for him and the kids. A pink and a blue matching teddies for the twins, a nice soft teddy for Ms. Elsie, and a little puppy dog that barks and wags its tail when you pat its head for Justin. They all need a "Welcome to Colorado" gift for when they get here.
October 29, 2007: His phone was out of minutes. No money left on the phone, and, according to him, his wallet was stolen that day, too, and since his credit cards were thus frozen, they couldn't deduct the automatic payment. Because I love him, what do I do? I call his cell phone company and put $25 onto his phone. Just before I called them, however, I texted him (he's got unlimited texts) and said that him asking me to put money onto his phone kind of made me feel like we were married. He wrote back and said he was going to talk to me about being exclusive. After a moment of hesitation, asking, "I thought you wanted to wait till you got here and see where things go, first," he insisted on asking me to be his boyfriend. Of course, I accepted this invitation, knowing that I love him so much already. So I called his phone company and added $25 to his account. He'd only asked me to put $15 on, but I figured, since we talk so much, he might as well have a bit more on there. What does he text me back? "Baby! You didn't have to put that much on!" I explain that I know how he likes to go over and that I gotta keep him covered, and that he just owes me a really nice dinner. He said he'd already had plans, along the lines of, "We are first going for an early romantic dinner at Fresco [Pesce Fresco?], then spending the night at the Brown Palace Hotel and spa for facials and relaxing massages and then a night of cuddling, wine, and love." And that's only the half of it, he says. What I did to deserve someone as good as him, I will never know.
After that conversation, I felt like I owned the moon and the stars in the sky that night. My dream of happiness, of love, of having a family, was starting to come true. It was like all the shit I had trekked through, every terrible "love" experience I'd endured had finally paid off and Karma was starting to work out for me. I knew, deep in my heart, that I'd never had anyone in my life as sweet as Justin, and I never wanted anybody else again. Love was finally coming my way.
Sunday, November 4, 2007: Justin was supposed to move to Denver today. I was supposed to pick him and the kids up from the airport around 10:30 PM. But, I got a phone call around 3 PM saying that they were in the hospital because Isabelle had an allergic reaction to peanuts on the plane. At 3 PM? Why were they on the plane so early? Was there something he's not telling me? Why would they be on the plane so early? It didn't make sense. The next few days were insane. He told me they were going to be flying out on Monday, then, instead. So I spend the whole day freaking out because, as far as I know, I'm supposed to pick him up at the airport, but I have absolutely no details about what's going on. After work that day, I came home and e-mailed a couple of his friends online, and attempted to call his sister (from a number he'd called me from before). While he didn't like that at all, my intentions were good: I was only trying to find out what was going on. The following three days were torture. I hadn't heard from him at all, until Wednesday night. I finally got the call: Isabelle's out of the hospital and we're flying out tomorrow.
Thursday, November 8, 2007: Again, I spend the whole day in anticipation. Trying to track which flight he's on online, I anxiously wait for him to call me and tell me he's in town. I call, and call, and call, only to get sent to voicemail over and over. When I finally get through to him around maybe 3 PM that afternoon, he says he's on a layover in Dallas. He'll be here around 7. Okay. No biggie. So I went to my friend's pool league that night, so that I'd be closer to Denver when he got in. And did he call? Yeah, not so much. 7:30 PM, still not ansering his phone. When I called him around 8 PM, he said he's in town and that he's in bed because he didn't feel too good, said he'd call me in the morning. Did I get that call? No. All day Friday, no calls, nor were mine answered. Only come to find out he's in the hospital. Okay, great. Now what am I to do? The man I love is in the hospital, and he won't let me come and see him. He says visitors make him depressed.
The next weeks turn into nightmares. My phone calls are hardly ever answered or returned, and I rarely get a call from him. And if I do get a call, it lasts only a minute or so before he has to go because he's going to be sick again. I get calls or texts saying, "I'm getting out of the hospital tomorrow," but then when I try to call him, he'll still be in. This goes on, hell, still is going on, and I only get more frustrated as the days continue. I get more lonely, more depressed, more upset and hurt and let down with every passing day.
November 12, 2007: So, I messed up again. I IM'd a friend of his online that afternoon, trying to figure out where he was, what was going on. And while the conversation was wholly friendly, I was just trying to find out if he was okay. I hadn't heard from him in so long, I was worried and hoped that he was okay. When he found out, he got angry. He kept texting me, very upset, because I'd only done it a week ago, and that hurt him. I tried offering to put money on his phone so that we could actually talk it through, and kept saying no. I left pool early that night, didn't play at all, and got online. His best friend, Braiden, IM'd me. After a long conversation about how much the events of the evening hurt me, Braiden started to shed some light on what was going on. He told me why he doesn't like visitors in the hospital. He told me why Justin was upset (as if I didn't know before). And he told me that Justin is a very private person and probably didn't want his friends to know he was in the hospital. And after thorough explanation, Braiden started to understand where I was coming from, too. In the conversation, Braiden gave me the link to Justin's phone company online so that I could try to put money on his phone so we could talk it through. I can't figure out how to put just the $25 on, so I end up paying the whole bill: a total of close to $100. I finally get through to him and I explain to him what I was thinking. Trying to rationalize with him was difficult, but we finally both understood where the other was coming from. It was a hard night, but that's what it took to get us over the hump.
Monday, November 19, 2007: Braiden called me tonight. He said Justin got in a bad car accident Saturday night before; finally got out of the hospital and had a siezure. Back in the hospital. But why didn't he call me to say he got out? I guess I'll just have to sit tight.
Thursday, November 22, 2007, Thanksgiving: I tried to call him. I tried to wish him a happy thanksgiving. I tried to tell him I love him. Calls weren't answered. Nor returned. Again.
Sunday, November 25, 2007: When I talked to him last, maybe the Tuesday prior to this, he said that if he wasn't out of the hospital by his birthday he'd let me come see him. So what do I do first thing when I wake up? I called him to wish him a very happy birthday. But did he answer? Nope. Did he return my voicemail? Again, no. I called, and called, and called, and eventually his phone was turned off. What a day. The one man I truly love more than anything ignores my calls all day, on his birthday, and won't even let me give him my birthday wishes. Of course.
Monday, December 10, 2007: I get a text around 7:30 AM saying that he needs money put onto his phone so he can call his doctor because he's getting out of the hospital and needs his doctor to sign the papers. So I get online and put $25 onto his phone. He calls me back a bit later; "Are you excited to finally get to see me." The thought running through my mind: Well maybe I'll believe it when I actually see it; you've been making promises, promises and not holding up. Who knows it it'll actually happen?
Thursday, December 13, 2007: I talked to him for a bit online tonight. Seems like he's getting worse. When he called me a bit later, crying, I begged him to let me come see him. I need to be with him. I need to know that he's okay. I need to see him, and hug him, and comfort him. I need him to know I'm here for him. He said he'd let me come see him the next day. So that Friday, I work through lunch to get off work at 3 PM so that I can get down to the hospital to see him. 230 PM, I called him, and got sent to voicemail. 3 PM, same thing. I stopped for gas at the station across the street from work, and called him again after I was done filling up, same thing. I know you're at St. Luke's, but how am I supposed to find you if you won't answer your phone. Upset, I just went home and tried to forget about the pain.
Friday night, I went over to a friend's house. Late in the evening, I had a little sit-down with an amazing woman. I've only known her for about a year, and even then I've only actually talked with her maybe three or four times. Needless to say, she doesn't know me very well at all. But we sat down, and she started to read my soul. She saw the pain in my heart, and she knew about the family that had just come into my life recently. She knew about the kids, and she knew how much I loved them. She said I'm destined to be with those kids, and to show them such an immense love. She said I'm the kindest person on the planet. She said I'm sincere, and honest, and truthful, and caring. She said that's my biggest downfall because people like me only live to get hurt. And the entire time she was talkinb about this family to recently enter my life, all I could think about was this cute little family of four - Justin, Elsie, Isabelle, and Garrit. And I cried. I cried, and I cried, and I cried some more every time she told me that the love those kids will show me is greater than any love in the world. She said some things about my home life (like, "It's cold where you sleep," and, "Those you live with can't understand you," and quite a few other things), and everything she said was right on the bulls-eye. It's like she knew me, without me having to tell her anything. It's like she had a power to know, absorb, and to heal. Her hugs - there were many throughout this conversation - comforted me exactly how I needed to be comforted right then. She knew how to help me.
Saturday, December 15, 2007: I called him this morning, just to see if he'd answer, and he did. As I was about ready to play a Rascal Flatts song through to his voicemail ("What hurts the most / Was being so close / And having so much to say / And watching you walk away / And never knowing / What could have been..."), he answered. Upset, I ask when I can see him. He says today, tells me he's at St. Lukes, and registered under Justin Montgomery. At the time I didn't think anything of it (I'll come back to this later), but I told him that I was on my way out the door to pick up my mom's Christmas gift from the warehouse, and that I'd be headed over in about two hours. So I get home from that, and head down to St. Luke's. Get all the way down there, to the admissions desk, and the lady there tells me there's nobody registered there under Justin Montgomery. Nothing for Justin Hart, or Justin Robinson either. Okay, strange. Let's see if I can call him. I probably called him nearly 30 times, to no avail. Ring, ring, ring, ring, voicemail. Each time. I even tried from her cell phone (thank you for letting me try), just in case he was just ignoring my number. That even went to voicemail. I sat around that lobby for an hour and a half trying to call him, text him, desperately trying to find him. Anything? Nothing. I left, with one question unanswered in my mind: Why are you registered with Nathan Montgomery's last name?
I came home, got online, and shortly after I see him get online. I ask him why his name isn't registered at St. Luke's. No asnwer. I ask him why he didn't anwer his phone, he says he was sleeping. But really, near 30 calls should bloody wake you up! You were expecting me to come see you that day! You should have been ready for me! I tell him that I needed to talk to him about the conversation I had the night before, and he said he'd call me. So, he finally calls me, five minutes or so later, and I tell him about what I was told, how she knew me, and how I am destined to take care of those kids. He says, "awe," and then I proceed to tell him about how I've been so confused and frustrated lately. Waiting for a response in silence, he says he's gonna be sick again and that he'll call me back in a bit.
That brings up right up to the present. Will he call back? What will happen? Who knows?
All I know is that I'm tired of being played. Is this all a game? I'm getting out. Wait, no, no I'm not. I'm getting out today. No, no I'm not. What's going on? I don't know.
I have done nothing but care, and love, and GIVE. $150 I gave to his phone, so we could talk like we used to, so we could talk and make more happy times. The teddy bears. The tears I cried for him and his pain. I've given him my all, my everything. I have done nothing but care, and worry, and care some more. I worry about what those kids are feeling, not being able to see their daddy. I worry about him, his health, his life. And I care so much about him and those kids that not being able to see them just makes me feel like someone is stabbing a knife into my heart, turning, and trying to suck it out through a straw. I've shown him so much that I care, wholeheartedly, and unconditionally, and what have I gotten in return? Way too much disrespect and games. The Temptations' song comes to mind: "Why do you build me up, Buttercup, baby, just to let me down." He needs to give me a little bit of consideration. Aren't I supposed to be his boyfriend? (Because until he says otherwise, I still believe it.)
I just want a return of the love I give.
Me: if you ever want a babysitter while you're
out on hot dates, i'l volunteer!
Justin: lol thanks
Justin: you arnt gunna be my hot date?
Me: are you asking me out?
Justin: lol maybe when I get there
At that time, I really didn't think anything of it. Yeah, it made me melt like ice cream on a hot July afternoon. But I tried not to get my hopes up. I knew what could happen if I did. I didn't want to get hurt. I didn't want to get let down. I didn't want another disappointment. So, over the next couple weeks, I just played it cool and went with the flow. Something I've never done before, it took so much effort to NOT fall for him as quickly as I did with other guys. I held myself up. I didn't make a big fuss about it. The biggest part: I didn't go and tell everybody I know every thing that happened between him and I; I just kept him my little secret while I waited to see where fate would take us.
Looking at the next week or so, I realize how much I began to fall. I've learned so much about him. He began a blog on this very site not long after I met him. I remember him telling me and sending me the link. I remember reading it for the first time. "A look at life through my eyes. A single father, a cancer survivor, a cancer patient, an HIV sufferer, an animal lover...but most of all....just me. This is a look at who I am..outside of my kids dad, and my doctors patient."
And I read it again. "A look at life through my eyes. A single father, a cancer survivor, a cancer patient, an HIV sufferer, an animal lover...but most of all....just me. This is a look at who I am..outside of my kids dad, and my doctors patient."
And again.
And then I told him something I was so afraid to tell him: I care about you so much that I will stand by your side through everything that comes your, our, way.
The previous couple weeks were so beautiful as we laughed together over the phone, as I sang him to sleep because he was crying and not having good nights, and as we made plans of what we would do together, and with the kids, once they got here. He let me into his life, and told me things about him and his kids that just made me feel special knowing them. Garrit is deaf. (Good thing I took some sign language classes in college, right?) They love teddy bears. They will love crawling all over me and using me as a jungle-gym and just playing with me. They love chocolate. And Ms. Elsie! He posted a blog about her, just pictures of her tiny fingers, her beautiful, innocent eyes and nose. The though of just being able to hold her made me feel so happy, so much more responsible than I've probably felt holding my own niece and nephew. Maybe it's because I'd hoped to be something of a father for her some day. I really, really hoped. I went bought some teddy bears from Build-A-Bear for him and the kids. A pink and a blue matching teddies for the twins, a nice soft teddy for Ms. Elsie, and a little puppy dog that barks and wags its tail when you pat its head for Justin. They all need a "Welcome to Colorado" gift for when they get here.
October 29, 2007: His phone was out of minutes. No money left on the phone, and, according to him, his wallet was stolen that day, too, and since his credit cards were thus frozen, they couldn't deduct the automatic payment. Because I love him, what do I do? I call his cell phone company and put $25 onto his phone. Just before I called them, however, I texted him (he's got unlimited texts) and said that him asking me to put money onto his phone kind of made me feel like we were married. He wrote back and said he was going to talk to me about being exclusive. After a moment of hesitation, asking, "I thought you wanted to wait till you got here and see where things go, first," he insisted on asking me to be his boyfriend. Of course, I accepted this invitation, knowing that I love him so much already. So I called his phone company and added $25 to his account. He'd only asked me to put $15 on, but I figured, since we talk so much, he might as well have a bit more on there. What does he text me back? "Baby! You didn't have to put that much on!" I explain that I know how he likes to go over and that I gotta keep him covered, and that he just owes me a really nice dinner. He said he'd already had plans, along the lines of, "We are first going for an early romantic dinner at Fresco [Pesce Fresco?], then spending the night at the Brown Palace Hotel and spa for facials and relaxing massages and then a night of cuddling, wine, and love." And that's only the half of it, he says. What I did to deserve someone as good as him, I will never know.
After that conversation, I felt like I owned the moon and the stars in the sky that night. My dream of happiness, of love, of having a family, was starting to come true. It was like all the shit I had trekked through, every terrible "love" experience I'd endured had finally paid off and Karma was starting to work out for me. I knew, deep in my heart, that I'd never had anyone in my life as sweet as Justin, and I never wanted anybody else again. Love was finally coming my way.
Sunday, November 4, 2007: Justin was supposed to move to Denver today. I was supposed to pick him and the kids up from the airport around 10:30 PM. But, I got a phone call around 3 PM saying that they were in the hospital because Isabelle had an allergic reaction to peanuts on the plane. At 3 PM? Why were they on the plane so early? Was there something he's not telling me? Why would they be on the plane so early? It didn't make sense. The next few days were insane. He told me they were going to be flying out on Monday, then, instead. So I spend the whole day freaking out because, as far as I know, I'm supposed to pick him up at the airport, but I have absolutely no details about what's going on. After work that day, I came home and e-mailed a couple of his friends online, and attempted to call his sister (from a number he'd called me from before). While he didn't like that at all, my intentions were good: I was only trying to find out what was going on. The following three days were torture. I hadn't heard from him at all, until Wednesday night. I finally got the call: Isabelle's out of the hospital and we're flying out tomorrow.
Thursday, November 8, 2007: Again, I spend the whole day in anticipation. Trying to track which flight he's on online, I anxiously wait for him to call me and tell me he's in town. I call, and call, and call, only to get sent to voicemail over and over. When I finally get through to him around maybe 3 PM that afternoon, he says he's on a layover in Dallas. He'll be here around 7. Okay. No biggie. So I went to my friend's pool league that night, so that I'd be closer to Denver when he got in. And did he call? Yeah, not so much. 7:30 PM, still not ansering his phone. When I called him around 8 PM, he said he's in town and that he's in bed because he didn't feel too good, said he'd call me in the morning. Did I get that call? No. All day Friday, no calls, nor were mine answered. Only come to find out he's in the hospital. Okay, great. Now what am I to do? The man I love is in the hospital, and he won't let me come and see him. He says visitors make him depressed.
The next weeks turn into nightmares. My phone calls are hardly ever answered or returned, and I rarely get a call from him. And if I do get a call, it lasts only a minute or so before he has to go because he's going to be sick again. I get calls or texts saying, "I'm getting out of the hospital tomorrow," but then when I try to call him, he'll still be in. This goes on, hell, still is going on, and I only get more frustrated as the days continue. I get more lonely, more depressed, more upset and hurt and let down with every passing day.
November 12, 2007: So, I messed up again. I IM'd a friend of his online that afternoon, trying to figure out where he was, what was going on. And while the conversation was wholly friendly, I was just trying to find out if he was okay. I hadn't heard from him in so long, I was worried and hoped that he was okay. When he found out, he got angry. He kept texting me, very upset, because I'd only done it a week ago, and that hurt him. I tried offering to put money on his phone so that we could actually talk it through, and kept saying no. I left pool early that night, didn't play at all, and got online. His best friend, Braiden, IM'd me. After a long conversation about how much the events of the evening hurt me, Braiden started to shed some light on what was going on. He told me why he doesn't like visitors in the hospital. He told me why Justin was upset (as if I didn't know before). And he told me that Justin is a very private person and probably didn't want his friends to know he was in the hospital. And after thorough explanation, Braiden started to understand where I was coming from, too. In the conversation, Braiden gave me the link to Justin's phone company online so that I could try to put money on his phone so we could talk it through. I can't figure out how to put just the $25 on, so I end up paying the whole bill: a total of close to $100. I finally get through to him and I explain to him what I was thinking. Trying to rationalize with him was difficult, but we finally both understood where the other was coming from. It was a hard night, but that's what it took to get us over the hump.
Monday, November 19, 2007: Braiden called me tonight. He said Justin got in a bad car accident Saturday night before; finally got out of the hospital and had a siezure. Back in the hospital. But why didn't he call me to say he got out? I guess I'll just have to sit tight.
Thursday, November 22, 2007, Thanksgiving: I tried to call him. I tried to wish him a happy thanksgiving. I tried to tell him I love him. Calls weren't answered. Nor returned. Again.
Sunday, November 25, 2007: When I talked to him last, maybe the Tuesday prior to this, he said that if he wasn't out of the hospital by his birthday he'd let me come see him. So what do I do first thing when I wake up? I called him to wish him a very happy birthday. But did he answer? Nope. Did he return my voicemail? Again, no. I called, and called, and called, and eventually his phone was turned off. What a day. The one man I truly love more than anything ignores my calls all day, on his birthday, and won't even let me give him my birthday wishes. Of course.
Monday, December 10, 2007: I get a text around 7:30 AM saying that he needs money put onto his phone so he can call his doctor because he's getting out of the hospital and needs his doctor to sign the papers. So I get online and put $25 onto his phone. He calls me back a bit later; "Are you excited to finally get to see me." The thought running through my mind: Well maybe I'll believe it when I actually see it; you've been making promises, promises and not holding up. Who knows it it'll actually happen?
Thursday, December 13, 2007: I talked to him for a bit online tonight. Seems like he's getting worse. When he called me a bit later, crying, I begged him to let me come see him. I need to be with him. I need to know that he's okay. I need to see him, and hug him, and comfort him. I need him to know I'm here for him. He said he'd let me come see him the next day. So that Friday, I work through lunch to get off work at 3 PM so that I can get down to the hospital to see him. 230 PM, I called him, and got sent to voicemail. 3 PM, same thing. I stopped for gas at the station across the street from work, and called him again after I was done filling up, same thing. I know you're at St. Luke's, but how am I supposed to find you if you won't answer your phone. Upset, I just went home and tried to forget about the pain.
Friday night, I went over to a friend's house. Late in the evening, I had a little sit-down with an amazing woman. I've only known her for about a year, and even then I've only actually talked with her maybe three or four times. Needless to say, she doesn't know me very well at all. But we sat down, and she started to read my soul. She saw the pain in my heart, and she knew about the family that had just come into my life recently. She knew about the kids, and she knew how much I loved them. She said I'm destined to be with those kids, and to show them such an immense love. She said I'm the kindest person on the planet. She said I'm sincere, and honest, and truthful, and caring. She said that's my biggest downfall because people like me only live to get hurt. And the entire time she was talkinb about this family to recently enter my life, all I could think about was this cute little family of four - Justin, Elsie, Isabelle, and Garrit. And I cried. I cried, and I cried, and I cried some more every time she told me that the love those kids will show me is greater than any love in the world. She said some things about my home life (like, "It's cold where you sleep," and, "Those you live with can't understand you," and quite a few other things), and everything she said was right on the bulls-eye. It's like she knew me, without me having to tell her anything. It's like she had a power to know, absorb, and to heal. Her hugs - there were many throughout this conversation - comforted me exactly how I needed to be comforted right then. She knew how to help me.
Saturday, December 15, 2007: I called him this morning, just to see if he'd answer, and he did. As I was about ready to play a Rascal Flatts song through to his voicemail ("What hurts the most / Was being so close / And having so much to say / And watching you walk away / And never knowing / What could have been..."), he answered. Upset, I ask when I can see him. He says today, tells me he's at St. Lukes, and registered under Justin Montgomery. At the time I didn't think anything of it (I'll come back to this later), but I told him that I was on my way out the door to pick up my mom's Christmas gift from the warehouse, and that I'd be headed over in about two hours. So I get home from that, and head down to St. Luke's. Get all the way down there, to the admissions desk, and the lady there tells me there's nobody registered there under Justin Montgomery. Nothing for Justin Hart, or Justin Robinson either. Okay, strange. Let's see if I can call him. I probably called him nearly 30 times, to no avail. Ring, ring, ring, ring, voicemail. Each time. I even tried from her cell phone (thank you for letting me try), just in case he was just ignoring my number. That even went to voicemail. I sat around that lobby for an hour and a half trying to call him, text him, desperately trying to find him. Anything? Nothing. I left, with one question unanswered in my mind: Why are you registered with Nathan Montgomery's last name?
I came home, got online, and shortly after I see him get online. I ask him why his name isn't registered at St. Luke's. No asnwer. I ask him why he didn't anwer his phone, he says he was sleeping. But really, near 30 calls should bloody wake you up! You were expecting me to come see you that day! You should have been ready for me! I tell him that I needed to talk to him about the conversation I had the night before, and he said he'd call me. So, he finally calls me, five minutes or so later, and I tell him about what I was told, how she knew me, and how I am destined to take care of those kids. He says, "awe," and then I proceed to tell him about how I've been so confused and frustrated lately. Waiting for a response in silence, he says he's gonna be sick again and that he'll call me back in a bit.
That brings up right up to the present. Will he call back? What will happen? Who knows?
All I know is that I'm tired of being played. Is this all a game? I'm getting out. Wait, no, no I'm not. I'm getting out today. No, no I'm not. What's going on? I don't know.
I have done nothing but care, and love, and GIVE. $150 I gave to his phone, so we could talk like we used to, so we could talk and make more happy times. The teddy bears. The tears I cried for him and his pain. I've given him my all, my everything. I have done nothing but care, and worry, and care some more. I worry about what those kids are feeling, not being able to see their daddy. I worry about him, his health, his life. And I care so much about him and those kids that not being able to see them just makes me feel like someone is stabbing a knife into my heart, turning, and trying to suck it out through a straw. I've shown him so much that I care, wholeheartedly, and unconditionally, and what have I gotten in return? Way too much disrespect and games. The Temptations' song comes to mind: "Why do you build me up, Buttercup, baby, just to let me down." He needs to give me a little bit of consideration. Aren't I supposed to be his boyfriend? (Because until he says otherwise, I still believe it.)
I just want a return of the love I give.
12.13.2007
The gardener.
Gardening is a talent, for sure. It takes time and patience. It requires tenderness and nurturing. To grow a garden takes love and care.
And what's it all for? The one little flower, to which the gardener gives all his hope, for which he works so hard. Its beautiful colors bring the gardener peace, tranquility and love. The love brought to the gardener by his creation is that for which he has yearned while growing this fragile little masterpiece.
And in the time one spends growing a garden, one must pull weeds and fight out bugs that can destroy the garden as fast as that garden was grown, if not faster. These bugs get in and eat at the beauty created.
And sometimes that flower wilts. Without constant care, its petals may lapse, its life droops and sags. Even the tiniest bit of neglect may cause the flower to whittle away; the slightest ignorance can drain that flower of the very beauty the gardner has striven so hard to create and bring to life.
And sometimes the gardener builds a picket fence around the garden to prevent larger pests from ravaging the garden. The fence, his protective barrier, keeping out the tortures that eat at his creation, the terrors that bring the beautiful flower to its death. This wall, though not very strong, is a symbol of strength and willpower, that the gardener will keep trying and will do everything in his power to keep his creation from failing, from dying, from being eaten and tortured. The gardener's creation, his passion, is the one thing he will do everything to keep, to hold, to cherish and love and nurture.
The gardener will keep the flower near to his heart.
And what's it all for? The one little flower, to which the gardener gives all his hope, for which he works so hard. Its beautiful colors bring the gardener peace, tranquility and love. The love brought to the gardener by his creation is that for which he has yearned while growing this fragile little masterpiece.
And in the time one spends growing a garden, one must pull weeds and fight out bugs that can destroy the garden as fast as that garden was grown, if not faster. These bugs get in and eat at the beauty created.
And sometimes that flower wilts. Without constant care, its petals may lapse, its life droops and sags. Even the tiniest bit of neglect may cause the flower to whittle away; the slightest ignorance can drain that flower of the very beauty the gardner has striven so hard to create and bring to life.
And sometimes the gardener builds a picket fence around the garden to prevent larger pests from ravaging the garden. The fence, his protective barrier, keeping out the tortures that eat at his creation, the terrors that bring the beautiful flower to its death. This wall, though not very strong, is a symbol of strength and willpower, that the gardener will keep trying and will do everything in his power to keep his creation from failing, from dying, from being eaten and tortured. The gardener's creation, his passion, is the one thing he will do everything to keep, to hold, to cherish and love and nurture.
The gardener will keep the flower near to his heart.
11.10.2007
My astro sign... or something like that.
2. TAURUS - The Devil
(the Bull - 20 April - 20 May)
* Aggressive.
* Loves being in long relationships.
* Likes to give a good fight for what they want.
* Extremely outgoing.
* Loves to help people in times of need.
* GOOD kisser.
* GOOD personality.
* Stubborn but a caring person.
* One of a kind.
* Not one to mess with.
* Usually are the most attractive people.
So this was part of a bulletin a friend posted on MySpace. And how true is the above depiction of yours truly? Almost dead on! I love being in long relationships... and when I want him, I fight for him, and make sure he knows he probably can't live without me. And I love helping people in times of need; shit, that's what I do best!! And I AM stubborn, but very, very caring. And I'm most certainly one of a kind. DUH! Nobody can replicate this awesomeness! And you better not mess with me, coz I got a whole gang lined up to kick ass if I get hurt! And I sure as shit am the hottest thing ever! DUH!
So it's just so perfect!
That's all for now.
Luv ya bye bye
(the Bull - 20 April - 20 May)
* Aggressive.
* Loves being in long relationships.
* Likes to give a good fight for what they want.
* Extremely outgoing.
* Loves to help people in times of need.
* GOOD kisser.
* GOOD personality.
* Stubborn but a caring person.
* One of a kind.
* Not one to mess with.
* Usually are the most attractive people.
So this was part of a bulletin a friend posted on MySpace. And how true is the above depiction of yours truly? Almost dead on! I love being in long relationships... and when I want him, I fight for him, and make sure he knows he probably can't live without me. And I love helping people in times of need; shit, that's what I do best!! And I AM stubborn, but very, very caring. And I'm most certainly one of a kind. DUH! Nobody can replicate this awesomeness! And you better not mess with me, coz I got a whole gang lined up to kick ass if I get hurt! And I sure as shit am the hottest thing ever! DUH!
So it's just so perfect!
That's all for now.
Luv ya bye bye
11.04.2007
Dear Justin,
My love, my life. Without you my life was empty and void of all emotion and direction. You have brought the sun back to my sky and given me a reason to improve. Since I met you, I've been happier, I've excelled at everyday tasks, and I've felt like I have a reason to keep going.
I look forward to meeting you, kissing you, cuddling. Holding your hand -- just the thought -- makes me so giddy that I can't even breathe at times. Spending time with you fills my thoughts all day long. I can't hardly wait to make exquisite memories with you about our life together.
But most of all I look forward to spending time together with the kids -- playing with them, being a role model for them... maybe even a father figure for them. I love them so much already, and I can't wait to make them a part of my life just as much as you are.
My love, you make me feel so good about myself. You call me sexy and make me feel like a million dollars. I love you so much that I can't even picture life without you.
You are my every line, my every word, my everything.
Love, forever and ever,
~Curtis
I look forward to meeting you, kissing you, cuddling. Holding your hand -- just the thought -- makes me so giddy that I can't even breathe at times. Spending time with you fills my thoughts all day long. I can't hardly wait to make exquisite memories with you about our life together.
But most of all I look forward to spending time together with the kids -- playing with them, being a role model for them... maybe even a father figure for them. I love them so much already, and I can't wait to make them a part of my life just as much as you are.
My love, you make me feel so good about myself. You call me sexy and make me feel like a million dollars. I love you so much that I can't even picture life without you.
You are my every line, my every word, my everything.
Love, forever and ever,
~Curtis
10.30.2007
The best conversation ever.
The following contains excerpts from a conversation which took place over text messaging between Justin and I, Monday, October 29, 2007.
His phone dies. He lost his wallet, and when they [the phone company] tried to debit his bill, since his credit cards were frozen, they shut off his phone. He asks me (via text) for $15 to put on his phone for him so he can get it turned back on.
I tell him: "This kinda makes me feel like we're married."
Justin: "Well, I was gunna talk to you about being exclusive."
Me: "Okay? Um... I don't know what to say..."
Justin: "Well do you want to?"
Me: "You know I'd love to, but I thought you wanted to go slow and wait to see when you get here."
Justin: "Do you wanna be my boyfriend."
Me: "Yes. Wholeheartedly."
So I call his phone company and put $25 onto his account. He texts me:
"Baby! You didn't have to put that much on!"
Me: "I just gotta cover you... You like going over too much. You just owe me a hella nice date."
Justin: "Ooooh don't worry, I have big plans."
Me: "I'll tell you what your present is if you tell me..." (I got him and the kids some presents for when they get here.)
Justin: "I'll tell you half."
Me: "So you get half... Es un perro. But it does something totally cute."
Justin: "We are first going for an early romantic dinner at Fresc0 [Pesce Fresco], then spending the night at the Brown Palace Hotel and spa for facials and relaxing massages and then a night of cuddling, wine, and love."
Me: "What did I do to deserve you?!"
Justin: "LOL baby, that's only half of it. You have no idea. You need to schedule a whole weekend for me."
I love surprises.
But I still don't know what I did to deserve this.
His phone dies. He lost his wallet, and when they [the phone company] tried to debit his bill, since his credit cards were frozen, they shut off his phone. He asks me (via text) for $15 to put on his phone for him so he can get it turned back on.
I tell him: "This kinda makes me feel like we're married."
Justin: "Well, I was gunna talk to you about being exclusive."
Me: "Okay? Um... I don't know what to say..."
Justin: "Well do you want to?"
Me: "You know I'd love to, but I thought you wanted to go slow and wait to see when you get here."
Justin: "Do you wanna be my boyfriend."
Me: "Yes. Wholeheartedly."
So I call his phone company and put $25 onto his account. He texts me:
"Baby! You didn't have to put that much on!"
Me: "I just gotta cover you... You like going over too much. You just owe me a hella nice date."
Justin: "Ooooh don't worry, I have big plans."
Me: "I'll tell you what your present is if you tell me..." (I got him and the kids some presents for when they get here.)
Justin: "I'll tell you half."
Me: "So you get half... Es un perro. But it does something totally cute."
Justin: "We are first going for an early romantic dinner at Fresc0 [Pesce Fresco], then spending the night at the Brown Palace Hotel and spa for facials and relaxing massages and then a night of cuddling, wine, and love."
Me: "What did I do to deserve you?!"
Justin: "LOL baby, that's only half of it. You have no idea. You need to schedule a whole weekend for me."
I love surprises.
But I still don't know what I did to deserve this.
10.27.2007
10.23.2007
A Mi Querida Justin
I call you beautiful because of your heart of gold, your soul more angelic than the cherubs in heaven, and your face even DaVinci could never replicate.
You make me feel appreciated...
You make me feel special...
...like I'm worth something...
...like I'm worthy of something...
...like I'm deserving...
...like I'm attractive, and loved, and cared about...
...like I'm wanted.
I'm falling for you.
I'm falling fast.
And I don't know how to stop.
I want this to be real.
I want winter walks in the park; warm hats, gloves, scarves. Holding your hand as the snow falls around gently around us. Smiling and laughing at the kids playing in the snow.
I want a nice dinner, dressed up in coats and ties. Just the two of us. A song comes on and we take a slow dance on the floor. People stare as I kiss you gently, forehead to forehead, my arms wrapped around you.
I don't care what they say.
You're every line, you're every word.
You're my everything.
You make me feel appreciated...
You make me feel special...
...like I'm worth something...
...like I'm worthy of something...
...like I'm deserving...
...like I'm attractive, and loved, and cared about...
...like I'm wanted.
I'm falling for you.
I'm falling fast.
And I don't know how to stop.
I want this to be real.
I want winter walks in the park; warm hats, gloves, scarves. Holding your hand as the snow falls around gently around us. Smiling and laughing at the kids playing in the snow.
I want a nice dinner, dressed up in coats and ties. Just the two of us. A song comes on and we take a slow dance on the floor. People stare as I kiss you gently, forehead to forehead, my arms wrapped around you.
I don't care what they say.
You're every line, you're every word.
You're my everything.
10.16.2007
I deserve happiness, too.
So I haven’t written in a while, and I figured I’d use my sick day off to give an update. A lot has been going on lately. Well, not really, but there is a lot with a certain someone.
Let’s look back a bit:
October 4, 2007
I started talking to this guy named Justin online. I had known his ex-boyfriend, Nathan, and saw him online, so I figured I’d make a new friend. After several hours of talking, I realized that I had met one of the world’s most rare men ever.
He’s an architect.
A father of three beautiful children.
A cancer survivor.
This man has more conviction in one moment, one memory. His heart is made of gold, his soul is as pure as an angel.
He’s funny.
He’s original.
He’s unique and different and genuine.
When I volunteered to babysit for him while he’s out on his hot dates, he then asked me if I was going to be his hot date; I asked if he was asking me out, and he said, “maybe.” Next, he genuinely expressed concern for my health when he found out I was a smoker. I have since quit smoking.
Fast forward about a week and a half.
I’m falling.
Again.
We all know how badly situations like this turn out.
I’m going to get my heart crushed. It’s soon going to be ripped from my chest, stomped on, and thrown into the blender.
This afternoon, we were talking. He said that he’s not sure that I even want to date him. When I asked him about it, he said he has issues, baggage.
Duh. Who doesn’t?
I told him that I am willing and ready to accept him for him, every little thing, every piece of baggage. I told him that I understand he has problems, we all do. And I told him I’m here to stand by his side through thick and thin. I know I’m not financially independent yet, but I’m willing to be everything he and the kids need.
I guess the most important thing I’m feeling here is that it’s my turn. I’ve found an amazing guy, and I’d like to date him, I’d like to be part of his life. It’s my turn to be happy! Have I not sat patiently through crushing letdown after letdown? Have I not been alone for the past 23 years? Have I not endured enough pain in being hurt?
I’m the kind of guy who gives my all.
When I appreciate you, I appreciate you with my whole being.
When I care about you, I care with my whole soul.
When I love you, I love you with all my heart.
It’s my turn to find love. It’s my turn to have happiness. It’s my turn to smile, and make memories, and cuddle, and smile, and BE HAPPY!
IT’S MY TURN TO HAVE HAPPINESS!
This blog isn’t what I wanted it to be… I’m ending this.
Let’s look back a bit:
October 4, 2007
I started talking to this guy named Justin online. I had known his ex-boyfriend, Nathan, and saw him online, so I figured I’d make a new friend. After several hours of talking, I realized that I had met one of the world’s most rare men ever.
He’s an architect.
A father of three beautiful children.
A cancer survivor.
This man has more conviction in one moment, one memory. His heart is made of gold, his soul is as pure as an angel.
He’s funny.
He’s original.
He’s unique and different and genuine.
When I volunteered to babysit for him while he’s out on his hot dates, he then asked me if I was going to be his hot date; I asked if he was asking me out, and he said, “maybe.” Next, he genuinely expressed concern for my health when he found out I was a smoker. I have since quit smoking.
Fast forward about a week and a half.
I’m falling.
Again.
We all know how badly situations like this turn out.
I’m going to get my heart crushed. It’s soon going to be ripped from my chest, stomped on, and thrown into the blender.
This afternoon, we were talking. He said that he’s not sure that I even want to date him. When I asked him about it, he said he has issues, baggage.
Duh. Who doesn’t?
I told him that I am willing and ready to accept him for him, every little thing, every piece of baggage. I told him that I understand he has problems, we all do. And I told him I’m here to stand by his side through thick and thin. I know I’m not financially independent yet, but I’m willing to be everything he and the kids need.
I guess the most important thing I’m feeling here is that it’s my turn. I’ve found an amazing guy, and I’d like to date him, I’d like to be part of his life. It’s my turn to be happy! Have I not sat patiently through crushing letdown after letdown? Have I not been alone for the past 23 years? Have I not endured enough pain in being hurt?
I’m the kind of guy who gives my all.
When I appreciate you, I appreciate you with my whole being.
When I care about you, I care with my whole soul.
When I love you, I love you with all my heart.
It’s my turn to find love. It’s my turn to have happiness. It’s my turn to smile, and make memories, and cuddle, and smile, and BE HAPPY!
IT’S MY TURN TO HAVE HAPPINESS!
This blog isn’t what I wanted it to be… I’m ending this.
10.14.2007
My Promise To You.
i will love you forever. with or without the cancer. and i'm going to be by your side through the rest of the battle, from here on out. this i promise you. and by your side is right where i intend to stay.
10.12.2007
Love Is.
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come:
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
William Shakespeare
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come:
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
William Shakespeare
10.11.2007
Think.
The paradox of our time in history is that we have taller buildings but shorter tempers; wider freeways, but narrower viewpoints. We spend more, but have less; we buy more, but enjoy less. We have bigger houses and smaller families; more conveniences, but less time. We have more degrees but less sense; more knowledge, but less judgment; more experts, yet more problems; more medicine, but less wellness.
We drink too much, smoke too much, spend too recklessly, laugh too little, drive too fast, get too angry, stay up too late, get up too tired, read too little, watch TV too much, and pray too seldom.
We have multiplied our possessions, but reduced our values. We talk too much, love too seldom, and hate too often.
We've learned how to make a living, but not a life. We've added years to life not life to years. We've been all the way to the moon and back, but have trouble crossing the street to meet a new neighbor. We conquered outer space but not inner space. We've done larger things, but not better things. We've cleaned up the air, but polluted the soul. We've conquered the atom, but not our prejudice. We write more, but learn less. We plan more, but accomplish less. We've learned to rush, but not to wait. We build more computers to hold more information, to produce more copies than ever, but we communicate less and less.
These are the times of fast foods and slow digestion; big men and small character; steep profits and shallow relationships. These are the days of two incomes but more divorce; fancier houses, but broken homes. These are days of quick trips, disposable diapers, throwaway morality, one night stands, overweight bodies, and pills that do everything from cheer, to quiet, to kill. It is a time when there is much in the showroom window and nothing in the stockroom. A time when technology can bring this letter to you, and a time when you can choose either to share this insight, or to just hit delete.
Remember to spend some time with your loved ones because they are not going to be around forever.
Remember to say a kind word to someone who looks up to you in awe because that little person soon will grow up and leave your side.
Remember to give a warm hug to the one next to you because that is the only treasure you can give with your heart and it doesn't cost a cent.
Remember to say, "I love you," to your partner and your loved ones, but most of all mean it. A kiss and an embrace will mend hurt when it comes from deep inside of you.
Remember to hold hands and cherish the moment for someday that person will not be there again.
Give time to love; give time to speak! And give time to share the precious thoughts in your mind.
AND ALWAYS REMEMBER: Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away.
We drink too much, smoke too much, spend too recklessly, laugh too little, drive too fast, get too angry, stay up too late, get up too tired, read too little, watch TV too much, and pray too seldom.
We have multiplied our possessions, but reduced our values. We talk too much, love too seldom, and hate too often.
We've learned how to make a living, but not a life. We've added years to life not life to years. We've been all the way to the moon and back, but have trouble crossing the street to meet a new neighbor. We conquered outer space but not inner space. We've done larger things, but not better things. We've cleaned up the air, but polluted the soul. We've conquered the atom, but not our prejudice. We write more, but learn less. We plan more, but accomplish less. We've learned to rush, but not to wait. We build more computers to hold more information, to produce more copies than ever, but we communicate less and less.
These are the times of fast foods and slow digestion; big men and small character; steep profits and shallow relationships. These are the days of two incomes but more divorce; fancier houses, but broken homes. These are days of quick trips, disposable diapers, throwaway morality, one night stands, overweight bodies, and pills that do everything from cheer, to quiet, to kill. It is a time when there is much in the showroom window and nothing in the stockroom. A time when technology can bring this letter to you, and a time when you can choose either to share this insight, or to just hit delete.
Remember to spend some time with your loved ones because they are not going to be around forever.
Remember to say a kind word to someone who looks up to you in awe because that little person soon will grow up and leave your side.
Remember to give a warm hug to the one next to you because that is the only treasure you can give with your heart and it doesn't cost a cent.
Remember to say, "I love you," to your partner and your loved ones, but most of all mean it. A kiss and an embrace will mend hurt when it comes from deep inside of you.
Remember to hold hands and cherish the moment for someday that person will not be there again.
Give time to love; give time to speak! And give time to share the precious thoughts in your mind.
AND ALWAYS REMEMBER: Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away.
10.02.2007
Work Obcessed
Work Obsessed by Bucky D
Los Angeles, CA - What is our obsession with work? I hear people who brag about working 50, 60, 70, even 80 hours a week. They brag not because they're proud, they brag because they're trying to one-up someone else who is talking about a difficult job. We tie our identities into what we do for a living. We say things like, "I'm a technician" or, "I'm an accountant" or, "I'm a salesperson". Our definitions of who we are are what we do. When we meet a new person, we invariably ask, "So, what do you do for a living?" We are consumed by our jobs and our careers.
We put up with behaviors from our co-workers and superiors that we would never tolerate from friends and use the excuse, "Well, they pay my salary," to justify our subjugation, yet grumble every moment we have away from the workplace, engaging in the afore-mentioned "Oh, yeah, well where I work…" game with our friends and families. We view others who don't work as much as us with a certain level of disdain and those who don't work at all with a level of contempt on par with our contempt for thieves.
We carry our cell phones and on our time off are expected to take calls from work to discuss work. We receive emails from work on our time off and are expected to respond to those emails on our time off. We say, "Well, I'm a salaried employee so I guess they can expect this from me." We martyr ourselves to our jobs in the hopes that someone will recognize us for our unflagging devotion to our work, yet that recognition never comes. Still, we continue to sacrifice in the hopes that one day….
Taking time off for illness or recuperation is viewed as a weakness. If we become ill ourselves, we fear losing our jobs so we continue to work even at the risk of infecting others or worsening our own condition. When a family member is seriously ill or dying, we feel guilty for leaving work behind to be with them and return to our jobs 2 days after losing a loved one and are expected to do our jobs as if nothing has happened. No one wants to see or feel your grief at the risk of making them uncomfortable.
We expect stores to be open on holidays so if we forget an item, we can make that quick trip to the store. We seem to forget that someone will have to give up that holiday so we can buy the cranberry sauce we forgot. Why did we forget the cranberry sauce? We were so consumed with work we forgot to get it on the way home from work. We have no empathy for the employee working at the store on these holidays yet would be furious if asked to give up the same holiday for our boss.
We suffer from stresses, anxieties, rages, depressions and myriad other illnesses and conditions. We figure the best way to deal with this is to immerse ourselves in our work, never wondering if our obsession with overworking ourselves might be the cause.
Why don't we learn to relax a little?
Bucky is an author at The West Virginia Blogger.
Article Source: EzineArticles.com
Los Angeles, CA - What is our obsession with work? I hear people who brag about working 50, 60, 70, even 80 hours a week. They brag not because they're proud, they brag because they're trying to one-up someone else who is talking about a difficult job. We tie our identities into what we do for a living. We say things like, "I'm a technician" or, "I'm an accountant" or, "I'm a salesperson". Our definitions of who we are are what we do. When we meet a new person, we invariably ask, "So, what do you do for a living?" We are consumed by our jobs and our careers.
We put up with behaviors from our co-workers and superiors that we would never tolerate from friends and use the excuse, "Well, they pay my salary," to justify our subjugation, yet grumble every moment we have away from the workplace, engaging in the afore-mentioned "Oh, yeah, well where I work…" game with our friends and families. We view others who don't work as much as us with a certain level of disdain and those who don't work at all with a level of contempt on par with our contempt for thieves.
We carry our cell phones and on our time off are expected to take calls from work to discuss work. We receive emails from work on our time off and are expected to respond to those emails on our time off. We say, "Well, I'm a salaried employee so I guess they can expect this from me." We martyr ourselves to our jobs in the hopes that someone will recognize us for our unflagging devotion to our work, yet that recognition never comes. Still, we continue to sacrifice in the hopes that one day….
Taking time off for illness or recuperation is viewed as a weakness. If we become ill ourselves, we fear losing our jobs so we continue to work even at the risk of infecting others or worsening our own condition. When a family member is seriously ill or dying, we feel guilty for leaving work behind to be with them and return to our jobs 2 days after losing a loved one and are expected to do our jobs as if nothing has happened. No one wants to see or feel your grief at the risk of making them uncomfortable.
We expect stores to be open on holidays so if we forget an item, we can make that quick trip to the store. We seem to forget that someone will have to give up that holiday so we can buy the cranberry sauce we forgot. Why did we forget the cranberry sauce? We were so consumed with work we forgot to get it on the way home from work. We have no empathy for the employee working at the store on these holidays yet would be furious if asked to give up the same holiday for our boss.
We suffer from stresses, anxieties, rages, depressions and myriad other illnesses and conditions. We figure the best way to deal with this is to immerse ourselves in our work, never wondering if our obsession with overworking ourselves might be the cause.
Why don't we learn to relax a little?
Bucky is an author at The West Virginia Blogger.
Article Source: EzineArticles.com
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